Introspection
by white0116
Summary: A darker portrait of Hyuga Hinata, who fails to find strength in herself or her friendship with Naruto. A rewriting of the important moments in her life, including her years in the academy, graduation, promotion to genin, first attempt at the chuunin exams, etc.
1. Shades of early spring

**Shades of early spring**

Hyuga Hinata chooses her friends carefully. It has taken her a few months of cautious observation just to be sure she does not mind being friends with Uzumaki Naruto.

She has heard her classmates talk about him, and seen their parents frown at the sight of him. The boy is generally disliked, for an elusive reason none of her classmates seems to be able to, or care enough to pinpoint. Some say he is too stupid, some say he is too keen on playing pranks.

Hinata does not disagree with those who think Uchiha Sasuke is the brightest student in her class, but she cannot bring herself to look down on Naruto just because academically, he is the complete opposite of the gifted boy.

And his pranks… Well, he is not the only talented prankster in her class, and whether they like to admit it or not, the children do not laugh more at him than because of him. She wonders how they have the heart to make fun of the joker who amuses them every day. When Hinata laughs with them, it is with a heavy heart. She does not know why their laughter sometimes sounds cruel to her as she looks at their innocent faces. There is so much she does not understand about them.

And why is she different from them? Her white eyes look somewhat pensively at the boy. She knows she feels sorry for him, a sentiment none of her classmates (except Shikamaru) seems to share, and she remains silent. It pains her to think about it - the unmistakable difference - and be forced to feel out of place every time it comes to mind.

Already it is her third year at the academy, and yet she has never found a real reason to look forward to her time in school, except that it allows her to stay away from home temporarily. She finds herself at a loss for words, unable to explain it, even to herself.

Is something amiss? What is it? She is not unhappy in school. Her classmates are polite to her, even though some of them still find her white eyes rather unusual. She has no serious difficulty in coping with her schoolwork. She submits her homework on time and passes her exams. She does not sleep in class, nor is she tempted to ignore her teachers and chat away with her classmates. In short, she would say that she is neither Naruto nor Sasuke. She is the kind of student that teachers do not remember.

And she asks herself if she is silent because she is not remembered. She asks herself if she is just like Naruto at heart, longing for approval and acceptance… and she sighs, almost inaudibly, with a vacant look in her eyes. Sometimes she wonders if that is the best expression for her white eyes, so ironically expressive in their inherent blankness.

Has the whiteness of her eyes ever clouded her vision? Does she see differently because of her eyes? Does she think differently because of her eyes? Are her eyes truthful? Did they ever lie to her? Can they give her answers to all her unasked questions? Can she believe in the truth of what she sees - with her own eyes?

She hears voices. They say Neji has better eyes. They say Hanabi is a quick learner. Are their eyes sharper? Do they know better? Can she trust her own eyes when Neji's gaze seems sharp enough to pierce her? His gaze, burning desperately with an icy flame, robs her of her frail voice and feeble words, and leaves her speechless. "There is no need for words," his eyes seem to say aloud, "I've already seen it in you." When he looks at her like that, she falls silent, and looks away, and tries to forget about it. Then all of a sudden she wishes for noise, for people, for silly conversations, for anything that promises to startle her out of her reverie.

Is it alright, she asks herself, to graduate from the academy two and a half years later feeling as if she has at last woken up from a ridiculously long reverie, a reverie as long as the years it takes a little girl to walk all the way up from the ground floor to the roof of the building? Is it alright to have nothing memorable to remember? Is it alright to feel no regret at all when it is time to leave?

The sky is grey and the rain is indifferent. Slowly she walks out of her classroom, through the corridor, down the stairs, towards the main entrance. Surprised to see Naruto standing there, watching some children step out into the rain to meet their parents who hold an umbrella over their heads, she stops. He is unusually quiet, and his uncharacteristic quietness somehow distracts her from her habitual reserve, and she finds herself pondering over a possibility.

Is it possible, she muses, that something as trivial as a casual conversation with a friendless boy on a rainy March afternoon has some influence over her predictable, if not predestined, future? Destiny is too heavy a word on her lips, and she refrains from uttering it. "Predictable" is her preferred word. Predictability does not imply an absolute lack of freedom. Predictable is her life, and predictable is the weather. Right now it is raining… Raining.

"Do you think," says Hinata with mild curiosity, "it will rain tomorrow, Naruto-kun?"Naruto turns abruptly around, startled by her sudden approach.  
"What…" says Naruto, slightly confused, "did you just say to me?"  
"Will it rain tomorrow?" asks Hinata calmly.  
Staring at her questioningly, Naruto answers, "I don't know."  
"I hope… it won't," says Hinata with a faint smile, opening her umbrella, "see you on Monday, Naruto-kun."  
"Wait! You - " says Naruto, "I don't know you… do I? Why did you…" and then he seems to recognize her face but fail to recall her name.  
"I'm your classmate, Hyuga Hinata," she says with a polite smile.  
"Hyuga Hinata… Hyuga…" Naruto looks at her intently as he thinks aloud, "Your eyes… You're the milky-eyed girl!"  
"Milky?" says Hinata doubtfully.  
"No one I know has eyes like yours," says Naruto without hesitation.  
"You don't know my family, Naruto-kun," says Hinata blankly, "All my family has eyes like mine."  
"All your family?" his eyes widen in surprise.  
"I'm not the only one… I never am," says Hinata quietly, "and Naruto-kun, neither are you."  
"Neither am I?" says Naruto with a puzzled look on his face.  
"You're not the only blue-eyed boy in Konoha," says Hinata dispassionately, "you only think you are… because you haven't met the others yet."  
For a moment Naruto looks at her, speechlessly, and then he says, "I haven't thought about my own eyes at all."  
"You just told me what you thought about my eyes… and I'll tell you what I think about yours, Naruto-kun," says Hinata calmly after a pause, staring blankly into the rain-washed streets, "they are like the sky, cloudless and azure."


	2. Wandering

Author's Note

Thank you very much for all your kind reviews. Really glad some of you enjoyed reading it. Really happy there are readers who are as interested as I am in Hinata's character and perspective. She is a supporting character in Kishimoto's story, but I think she is worthy of having her own story told from her own perspective. A story that is different from the one in the manga or the anime. I don't have much time to write, and I'm not a fast writer, but I will post a chapter when I feel like I have completed a part of the story. I might not post all chapters in chronological order, if I really want to write about an important event before the ones which precede it in time.  
Many, many thanks for reading my story.

* * *

 **Wandering**

It is a sunny day. Sunlight sifts through the leaves on the trees, sprinkling the ground with broken pieces of warmth. People outside the academy look like walking matchsticks as she looks out the window from her classroom. Now her eyes can wander about to her heart's content. Classes are over, and she is alone… She closes her eyes for a moment, feeling a light breeze on her face as she searches her memory, carefully, for an afternoon like this, a sunny afternoon in an empty classroom.

She does not remember an afternoon like this. She has never been the last to leave the classroom, and she has never felt it so calm, so devoid of life before. She loves its soporific silence now, more than ever, as she tries in vain to quiet her restless mind. It is unnatural, she tells herself, and unreasonable, and unacceptable… of her to feel this way, but there is no denying it… the weak tremors of her hair, and of her heart, ruffled by the careless wind.

She knows she cannot feign indifference before his white eyes. As a matter of fact she is immensely thankful to him for not coming today. She always knows that he is busy. His absence is not surprising at all, but there is always a slight possibility that he might come… or worse, he might bring Hanabi with him… Now she is genuinely glad that neither her father nor her little sister has come.

She does not want her father to know her feelings. She does not want him to know that she is not disappointed at his absence, nor is she sorry for having disappointed him. There is no point in apologizing anymore. She loves his silence more than the gentlest of his words. After years of frozen anger and frustrated hopes, he has finally made up his mind... to leave her alone. Finally… he is beginning to see her as who she really is… a timid girl, a submissive child, an emotional creature, an immature and impressionable mind.

She is not afraid to admit it now. She is unremarkable… or remarkably mediocre. Perhaps she is way too tired to be afraid now. Perhaps her father should have given her a feistier name. What was he thinking when he decided to name her little sister Hanabi? Does he love fireworks? She smiles at her own idle curiosity. She knows he prefers her silence to a frivolous question like that, so she always keeps her mouth shut.

Her father is unfathomable. His decisions are unquestionable. His thoughts are unreadable. His emotions are inexplicable. His love… is difficult. Does he love fireworks? Why does he love fireworks? What does a man like him ever look into the night sky for? What does it matter to him if the moon is shining, and the stars are twinkling, and she is smiling? Does he know she loves fireworks? It makes her sad. Beautiful, beautiful fireworks… Always make people wait and never wait for them.

Her father is hopelessly disappointed in her. He has always been impatient with her, and she is forever tense and nervous in his presence, no matter how hard she tries to maintain her cool facade. He has waited, and waited, in vain… for her to change miraculously for the better, impress him someday with her strength and determination, make him proud, remind everyone that Neji is not the rightful heir to the clan… and she has been a bitter disappointment.

There is no fire in her, only ash in her white eyes. Surely he does not wish to see her now. Her father… is kind enough to spare her the humiliation of meeting her clansmen for now. She knows they all remember very well… that this time last year, Neji-niisan graduated from the academy with flying colors. That was something to be proud of. That was not her. She knew her father was proud of the boy. She knew it. And she knew he would be disappointed the next year. She knew it, and it was hardly an exciting prospect.

She does not understand their enthusiasm. Why are her classmates so excited about it? Why do their parents look so pleased with them? Why do they talk as if it should be a cause for celebration? Why are they so light-hearted? The only one in her class who does not seem to care too much about it is Shikamaru, who does not seem to care too much about anything at all. She smiles at the thought of him casually complaining about the troublesome life of a shinobi…

Maybe troublesome is not the word for it. Maybe it is just not the word for her. It is… something that rids her of blissful ignorance and forces her eyes open. Something that cools her head and chills her blood. She is not particularly thrilled about being a ninja or wearing her new forehead protector for everyone to see. It felt cold on her skin, cold… cold and heavy. It felt like duty.

She was born into a noble family that distrusts passion, and she always finds it rather exhausting to try to get along with hot-tempered people… It is too bad most boys are unlike Shino, because she truly feels comfortable in his presence, and she has the impression that the feeling is mutual. His natural reticence feels strangely familiar and calming. Probably he is closest to her idea of a reliable friend. There is something about him that never fails to calm her and put her at ease… something a hyperactive boy like Naruto is often too excited to notice, even though she knows he is genuinely loyal to his friends and cares deeply about them.

She believes she knows him well enough to be certain of his loyalty as a friend, but she does not really think she knows the boy well. They are very different people, and in her heart of hearts she knows him only as well as a tree knows a bird. As he chatters away merrily, perched on a branch, she is silent as a tree. Silently she listens to his song, and closely she observes him. She knows the solitary bird has become attached to the mute tree.

Patiently she listens to him ramble on, more and more certain with each passing day of his desire to be heard. She cannot help but think that the boy is far too easy to read, even for an inexperienced and diffident girl like her. She can sense his unhappiness with her white eyes closed, and it somehow makes her uneasy… His vulnerability scares her. She does not really want to read him like an open book. She does not think she has a right to pry into his innermost feelings like that…

The more she gets to know him, the more she feels as if she is partly responsible for his current isolation. She is well aware of most of her classmates' unkind treatment of him. Inwardly she feels sorry for him, yet she never goes out of her way to stand up for him. Her deeply ingrained aversion to conflict and discord prevents her from openly speaking up for the boy. Her heart yearns for peace and quiet. She hates injustice, yet she is not idealistic enough to believe that it can be resolved by heated arguments or violence, terrible things that some people do in the name of justice. She is Naruto's friend, yet she cannot protect him from the other children's coldness or unconcealed hostility. Her acceptance of the lonely boy is but a slight ripple in the vast sea of collective mistrust and prejudice, a negligible deviation from the norm.

And who is she to call them prejudiced when she herself cannot thoroughly understand the boy or even her feelings towards him? She knew for sure there was something abnormal about him when the Third spoke to her during one of his visits to the academy about half a year ago.

The Hokage had always been kind to children, she knew, but there was something more than his customary warmth and benevolence that convinced her of his extraordinary concern for the boy. His attitude somehow reminded her of Iruka-sensei, who genuinely cared about the boy, apparently much more than all the other teachers did.

That day, the Third had spoken to the class about the will of fire. She did not know why, but she ended up getting lost in her own thoughts when she was supposed to listen attentively. When the Third approached her after his talk was over, she thought it was because of her inattention. To her surprise, he said simply, "Iruka said you were very quiet, Hinata… I'm glad you have become good friends."

She knew just who her friend was supposed to be, because she was often seen together with him in school. The boy clung to her so steadfastly that he was even willing to join her in the school library sometimes. It was a miracle indeed, she thought, even if he had to complain of boredom every time he took his seat beside her.

He was way too lively to sit still and read like a serious student even though he was not lazy at all. He simply enjoyed doing things much more than thinking about them. Abstractions bored him all too easily. He could not understand why she enjoyed reading books.

They were so different that if it were not for his miserable isolation and her preteen eccentricity, they would not have become close friends. The boy did seem to have a crush on Sakura, the pink-haired girl in her class, and she was sure if that girl had been less mean to him, he would have gladly sought her friendship instead.

It made her feel really sorry for him. He was so extraordinarily grateful to her for her friendship and small kindnesses… thankful to her for not pushing him away… It made her wonder why some people were so afraid of solitude, so thirsty for companionship, while others felt the need to constantly fixate on difference instead of similarities, why they took pleasure in discriminating against each other, why this little game of discrimination began as early as childhood.

She should have known better than to entertain illusions about children. They were not innocent. Their little games were politics in miniature, games to which adults were by no means immune. They were games that one could hardly refuse to play… especially in a traditional and prestigious clan like hers. They were games that she did not enjoy.

When the Third told her he was glad that she was friends with the boy, inwardly, she was alarmed. She did not know what was appropriate, or befitting of her position to say in reply, but she did think it rude to remain silent, so she said, "I'm just getting to know Naruto-kun, Hokage-sama." Apparently the Third had not expected such a response, as he looked at her rather curiously and said, "What do you think about Naruto?"

"I think he is unhappy," she said quietly after a pause.

A response did not come until about half a minute later.

"Hinata."

Everything seemed to have gone quiet and suddenly she was extremely conscious of herself, as she heard her own name fall from his lips.

"Think of all the difference that you have already made. It's not beyond your power to change it. It's in your hands… in the hands of all our children."

When she looked up and saw his profile, she could see that it was not meant for her. It was something he had always wanted to tell himself. It was a wish… a vision for the future. It was a moment that she remembered… with her body rather than her mind.

A vision…

Her hand reaches unconsciously for the windowpane. The people on the streets look so tiny between her little fingers. So tiny… The sight fills her with wonder. Tiny houses, tiny shops, tiny people, tiny lives. Tiny lives that look as though about to be blown away like leaves in the wind. Her village. Her home. The world as she sees it. Now. Alone in the silent classroom, standing before the window, she lets her eyes wander… further… into the distance.


	3. Flowers, cinnamon rolls and tea

Author's Note

Thanks to all of you who took the time to read my story. I really appreciate all your reviews. They help me reflect on what I have written from a different viewpoint. I am very happy to know some of you could form a clear mental image of the scene I described, because this is just what I did when I was writing the story. I found it difficult to write something I could not see clearly in my mind.

And I am thankful for your opinions on the portrayal of Hinata, because characterization is precisely what this fic is about. I try to keep deviations from the canon in terms of plot to a minimum because I have started this story with a simple desire to fill in the blanks and explore the possibilities in Hinata's life and character that Kishimoto has not described in detail. I call this fic a "darker" portrait of her because I do not expect my readers to find her an absolutely likeable character in this story. So feel free to make judgments about her as you read. I do not wish to interfere too much with my readers' interpretation, so I will avoid explaining the story here and try to include everything I want to say in the story itself, unless all of you find my writing too vague to understand...

This is a short chapter, but it took me long enough to write. I want to start writing about the chuunin exams but this is a scene that I really don't want to skip because I remember it so vividly and because Kishimoto has written so little about the relationships between his female characters. I hope I can start writing about the exams soon and then I can finally write about the major characters in depth. Thanks for reading!

* * *

 **Flowers, cinnamon rolls and tea**

Her first taste of the tea has left a mild bitterness in her mouth. Kurenai watches as Hinata stares at her own cup, her hands clasped somewhat stiffly on her lap. The child is uneasy, she observes. Both are naturally quiet, but her impressions of Hinata and Shino are decidedly different. The composure and quiet assertiveness she sees in Shino is unambiguously lacking in Hinata. There is something strangely expressive about her silence. It seems to her Hinata is not silent because she has nothing to say. On the contrary, the girl often seems overwhelmed by her own thoughts and emotions. A sensitive child. She can see why the child is silent now. A quiet child in a quiet house.

Almost three weeks ago, when she was first introduced to the children as their jounin instructor, she casually asked them to tell each other something about themselves. Kiba was the first to speak. He said he loved dogs, and his dog was called Akamaru. When Hinata turned her curious eyes to Akamaru and said, "aka?", he replied that Akamaru was really a red dog and then went on to explain why he was a red dog. After that, Shino spoke of his interest in entomology, and his dreams of discovering new species of insects. She thought he would tell them more about that, but in stark contrast to the chatty dog lover on their team, he said no more. Then they all waited for the quiet girl to speak. Now she was really curious about the Third's ideas on the new genin teams. So, dogs, bugs, and...? "I love pressing flowers," said the modest girl, "and I love cinnamon rolls... and I love peace."

Flowers and cinnamon rolls. She was more than surprised. The child had smiled. For the love of peace. For the love of flowers. For the love of cinnamon rolls. Wasn't it beautiful? The shape of peace in the eyes of a child. A white-eyed child. The white-eyed princess of the Hyuga. Little, little Hinata... Could she ever tell her about this? The aftermath of her innocent smile and childish words. The aftermath of war... The tears she shed, the daffodils she put on her father's grave all those years ago. A startling picture of stillness in her still unseasoned mind. A taste of death, and a taste of peace... lovely as a flower, and sweet... as a cinnamon roll? Little Hinata, sweet Hinata, may peace and joy be with her. May her eyes never lose their lustre. May the bright colors of her flowers never fade. May the scent of cinnamon linger on in her memory. She was amazed, almost embarrassed... So easily had she won her heart. The girl who spoke of love with so much levity. The girl with eyes white as a lily.

She looked as though she could not speak, poor child, when she closed the sliding door behind her and found her waiting in the hallway, carrying a tray with four cups of tea on it. She was sure the child had heard it. All of it, she was sure. Her less than cordial conversation with her father, and his careless dismissal of her. Kakashi would have deserved such a cold reception if he had dared to be late for a meeting with the head of the Hyuga clan. She would have been less angry if she had not already visited the Inuzukas and the Aburames and received a warm welcome from them. Less angry if she had barely known the child. Less angry if she had not cared for her.

This child... this child he called a failure in front of her younger sister... she tried to speak when she saw her sensei come out of the room, but words failed her. For a moment both were silent as water vapor rose from the cups on the tray. Four cups of tea. She wondered what the child was going to do then, and was utterly surprised when she slowly walked over to open the door, entered the room, greeted her father and younger sister before she put down two cups and went out again. As she followed the child into another room, she could not help but feel slightly guilty for having half expected her to cry, even for an instant. Was she not her student? She should have remembered that. As good a student as Shino and Kiba.

As she put down her empty cup, the child suddenly looks up at her as if to speak. Kindly she smiles.

"Will you... will you come again," says the child rather meekly, "sensei?"

Will she come again? she asks herself. The answer she knows without thinking. As long as you are here, she says silently to herself, as long as you are here, little child.


	4. Crimson blossoms

Author's Note

I finished writing this a month ago, but didn't want to post it then because it's closely related to the next chapter, which I had not finished yet. This chapter completely rewrites her experience during the chuunin exams as well as its meaning for her. While I was moved by her determination in Kishimoto's story, I am also interested in other possibilities. I hope you find it an interesting read. I will post the next chapter as soon as I finish proofreading it. Thanks for reading!

* * *

 **Crimson blossoms**

She is completely stunned. Speechless. Raindrops. Red raindrops. Warm raindrops. Fluttering down. The smell of blood is in the air. A suffocating rain that silences the soil instead of cleansing it. The forest of death stirs in its deep slumber. The herald of death is thirsty for blood. Her throat is dry. Her heart trembles in fear. How can she ever erase his face from her memory? Perhaps he can erase it for her… if it pleases him now to erase her entire existence from the face of the earth.

A burial. She knows here in Konoha the departed usually end up becoming one with the soil. But this is the first time she has witnessed a burial, a burial… not of the dead. The man had been buried alive. Fragments of his remains danced in the air, like flower petals. She finds it strange, revolting, yet frighteningly beautiful. The boy from the Sand will never realize the profound impact of his little bloody display, at least, on her. It is unforgettable to her not simply because of its pure atrocity… it is unforgettable, because it is a marker of her own cowardice.

She is afraid, and her fear makes her the loser. A few days later as she stands before Neji, her mind wandering back to the bloodstained sand of the solitary boy, she does not seem to hear a word of his warning. "How long has it been since he last spoke to me? Neji-niisan…" she muses, without uttering a single word. In dumb silence she looks at him, seeing the movement of his lips but failing to understand him, as he tells her so unambiguously what a hopeless failure she is. Nor does she seem to hear him, though it is remarkably quiet there.

They are watching her. Her cousin and her. Rather quietly. Their gaze weighs on her, and silences her. Everyone is watching. She is being watched. Then she remembers her father's stern gaze. She can almost sense his presence now, even in the midst of this ruthless dark forest, in front of her opponent, in front of one of her clansmen, in front of the boy she used to call "niisan" with a smile on her lips…

What is she going to do now? "Make up your mind quickly, Hinata." She wonders why Kiba has not told her to simply admit defeat. Her teammates really care about her, don't they? Perhaps more than her own family does. And Neji-niisan… Can she continue to call him "niisan" after today, after the ill-fated match, after the hurtful words, after… this?

She can tell that he is angry, painfully angry, with her, possibly for walking away and staying silent when he has spoken so eloquently about her sad fate and his.

"I can't fight anymore," she says, rather abruptly, breaking an awkward silence between them. His eyes widen in amazement. Without waiting for him to recover from his initial shock, she adds in a subdued voice, "there is no point in fighting anymore."

A queer silence permeates the room as she walks slowly away from her opponent and the heavy gaze of the spectators. The boy from the Sand is watching her too, she thinks to herself, possibly in contempt. She is too cowardly, too cowardly to fight at all. A weakling like her is not even worthy of killing. Her pathetic blood… She is so pathetic that she is relieved to be held in contempt… His bloody respect is a little too dangerous for a faint-hearted child like her.


	5. Mostly cloudy

Author's Note

This chapter is based on episode 58. I hope it clarifies some of her thoughts on her exams, her life, and her affinity with Shikamaru. I plan to write the next chapter from her perspective. So many things happen during and after the finals that she needs to reflect on. I hope I can give her enough time to think about all these things and let her interact with more characters without slowing down the pace of the story too much.

Thank you for taking the time to read this story.

* * *

 **Mostly cloudy**

Nara Shikamaru wakes up from a perturbing dream to a reddish sky. He is not sure he enjoys watching clouds at this time of day. The sky is burning too ardently... so ardently that it stops him from feeling lazy. A sensation so unfamiliar, so unsettling. So intense, so fiery. Red clouds, orange clouds, magenta clouds against the evening sky, a shade of blue so unclear, so ambivalent... For some reason it reminds him of her hair...

Where is she now? Is she looking at the sky too? He wishes she were here now. She would understand... His desire to while away the days watching clouds, or dream away the hours walking on clouds. She would understand why, wouldn't she? The reason he has spent half the day lying on the grass and doing nothing on the day before the finals.

"I was afraid," she said quietly when he asked her earlier today why she had chosen not to fight her cousin during the preliminaries.  
"Of what?"  
She seemed surprised at his question, and paused to think for a moment before she answered, in a subdued voice, "Of death. Of dying. Of dying in vain. Of a purposeless existence... I felt so unprepared."

Is he prepared? ... prepared for what? For tomorrow? For the finals? For the exams? For more troublesome missions? What does it matter if he is defeated tomorrow? Why does he find it all so uninteresting? When he saw her pale face this afternoon, he almost felt sorry for feeling so unmotivated... for caring so little when... Why did he even bother asking her about that? She was clearly upset about it. More upset than Chouji... What did he expect to hear from her? Something different. Something he could not expect to hear from his teammates or the other five genin in the same graduating class as him. She was the only one... and a lonely one she was.

He wouldn't say she was one of his best friends at school. They didn't talk much then, even though he often found himself sitting next to her in class. He told himself it was because she happened to share his love for window seats. Later he added that it was a mutual preference for peace and quiet. And a longing, he said to himself one lazy summer afternoon as he saw her staring blankly out the window.

His wild cloud chase. He could not help thinking about it as he watched her staring silently into space. Could he tell her? Could he tell her about it, about his wild cloud chase? A longing for lands without borders, and roads without ends. A longing for the path of the wind driven clouds. A longing for a bird's eye view... of the streets, of the trees, of the towns, of the lands and the seas, of the world... And a longing for the sympathy of a friend who shared this aimless love.

"I'm beginning to understand your love for the sky, Shikamaru-kun," she said offhandedly as they walked slowly down the street after an extended conversation in the hospital garden, "When I look at the clouds, I always feel like I'm looking at something else. Yesterday it was a teapot. Today it's like a feather, and tomorrow..."  
He thought he cared very little about what the clouds would look like tomorrow, but it would be nice if she could talk to him about that tomorrow, or just about anything. But he did not really want to talk about tomorrow then, because he enjoyed the moment. He loved it too well.

"I wish you the best of luck in the finals," she spoke in a soft and deliberate voice that sounded very different from his sensei's and his teammates' words of encouragement. He knew it was different, he felt it was different, and the difference made him a little nervous. Lucky... was he? to have met her today at the hospital after that terrible episode in the patient room.

He remembered her paled face when he first told her that redheaded boy from the Sand had almost killed Lee there. She seemed very disturbed, and extremely anxious to learn about all the particulars of the incident. It surprised and worried him to see her so flustered. It was like the day she shied away from her haughty cousin. To his mind she never lost that match.

She could not lose, because she did not fight. He wanted to tell her that, but for some reason he didn't. Wasn't it pointless to try and come up with a reason? He had too many of them. And if he was as intelligent as Asuma believed he was, shouldn't he save his intelligence for more useful stuff? Anything, anything more useful than turning over the matter in his head for weeks. He regretted it the moment he caught sight of her as she walked slowly up the stairs with some flowers in her hands.

Her thoughtful face broke into a smile the moment she looked up and saw him standing at the top of the stairs. He could not help but notice how often he had seen her smile like that. The way she smiled when she saw him wake up from a nap after class. Why did she smile like that? Like he was a trusted friend. Like she thought it a splendid idea to wake up from a nap on a breezy summer afternoon. Hinata... What's in a name? Could another who shared her name smile as bright? Why had he waited all this time to say something so simple?

"You think he's brave, don't you?"  
"He is," she said somewhat gravely, putting the hydrangeas in the vase.  
"Because he fought that boy?"  
"Because he knows what he's fighting for and fights for it fearlessly," she said after a pause, looking somewhat absently at Lee's sleeping face, "I wish he would recover from this injury and get back on his feet... and then challenge Neji-niisan to a fight again... He doesn't deserve this. Doesn't deserve to see his dream so brutally trampled over and then buried in the sand for the rest of his life. And I don't deserve to be the one standing here, unhurt and unscarred, looking at all the fractures in his broken bones with this pair of eyes that I didn't even work hard to gain... the one lucky enough to get out of all this struggle and fighting unscathed... I don't deserve it. These eyes of mine. This family name... I wish it were me... the one lying here, in this hospital bed. It would have been better... Much better."

He said nothing when he saw a tear roll down her face. For a moment both were silent.  
Then the patient stirred in his sleep. She raised a hand to wipe her tears, and said sorry.

"For what?" he asked.  
"For what I said... for everything," she answered.

He was about to say "you don't have to be sorry," when she turned her eyes away from the sleeping boy and looked him in the face. The words would not come.

He said instead after a pause, "don't worry about it."  
And tears welled up in her eyes again, and she said in an agitated tone, "Sorry. I'm sorry, Shikamaru-kun. Sorry, sorry... I'm so sorry... so sorry... a thousand times sorry. Sorry..."  
Then she covered her face with her hands and hastily left the room without saying a word.

Her eyes were somewhat red and puffy when she came out of the restroom and found him standing by the window in the corridor. A very, very light tap did she give him on the shoulder.  
"Shikamaru-kun," she said somewhat hesitantly.  
He turned around and looked her in the eye, waiting for her to continue.  
"I regret what I said... just a while ago. I don't know what came over me."  
Nor did he know what came over him then, he thought to himself. A tingling sensation. Restlessness. A tinge of red in her round cheeks. A part of him he never knew existed. He looked at her in silence, as if she was a puzzle that he had failed to solve.  
"I'm sorry if -"  
"Please, Hinata," he interrupted as he placed his hand over her mouth, half joking, half annoyed, "no more sorries, okay?"

She nodded in wide-eyed confusion. He did not know why it amused him so much to see her face turn a deeper shade of red. When the heat became too much to bear, he withdrew his hand and looked away, resting his eyes on the drifting clouds in the big blue sky. The view delighted him, almost as much as the thought of sharing it with her. This moment. This patch of sky.

"You always look up at the sky..." she spoke again before he did, in a steady voice, "I know Naruto-kun always has his eyes on the Hokage Rock, but you look up to something even higher, so high that no one could ever hope to reach... I think you will soar like a bird, Shikamaru-kun." She smiled at him.

"Hinata..."  
Suddenly he was no longer lighthearted, as the reality of his exam tomorrow dawned on him.  
"Look at the clouds."  
It wasn't just about tomorrow. It was about the day after tomorrow, and the day after the day after tomorrow, and the day after... He felt he was about to embark on a path that led nowhere near his idea of a quiet and simple life.

"I have a feeling the clouds are looking at me... at us, as I watch them," she said curiously, with a childish fascination.  
He made no reply, but turned to look at her profile.  
His idea of a quiet and simple life. Her smile, her voice, her gaze.  
"... as if there were no secrets under the sun."  
The proximity. Never before had he felt so close to her.  
"... strangely though, now it seems to clear my mind... of things I don't wish to remember... Is that why you tell me to look at the clouds, Shikamaru-kun?"

"Hinata, sometimes you remind me of clouds," he said after a pause, "and I feel as if I can talk to you about clouds, or anything in the clouds, and you won't tell me I've got my head in the clouds, even if it's true."  
She had a quizzical expression on her face.  
"Why?"

"The picture of freedom," he said as he watched the clouds drift across the sky, "free-floating. An infinite number of possible paths, unbounded, untrodden, that you can take, all the while knowing that none of them is necessarily better than the others..."  
"Unless you decide to commit yourself to one of them," she interrupted, "because you want to believe that something really is better than the others."  
He was genuinely surprised at her reaction.  
"Maybe that's why you remind me of clouds, Hinata... you're always watching... on the sidelines."  
Her eyes widened, and she moved her lips as if to speak, but no words came out. She let her head drop.  
"Watch me fight tomorrow, Hinata," he said, a little too earnestly, "and don't laugh at me if I lose to that blonde girl from the Sand... because I never... I never did laugh at you then."  
Her eyes clouded over, and she nodded in silence. He sighed inwardly - mostly cloudy, with a few light showers? That was a troublesome trait he just had to get used to...

He opens his eyes again when he feels small drops of rain fall on his face and arms. The sky has darkened, and the night is calm, so calm that he now feels as if it was only a dream. The fear. The raging sand. The chance meeting. The blue hydrangeas in the vase. The sky. Shadows of the trees. Specks of sunlight on her pale face. The walk. And the talk...

"I have a feeling the clouds are looking at me..."  
"... as if there were no secrets under the sun."

He gets up from the ground and takes one last look at the clouds.  
They know, perhaps, if he had been dreaming or not.


	6. Leaves in the wind

Author's Note

This chapter is adapted from episode 306 "The Heart's Eye". I have tried my best to write about all her thoughts on her village, her family, her cousin, and her friends in this chapter, but I don't think I have written enough about Neji or Shikamaru, or the Third. I wanted to include everything in this but maybe it's too much for a single chapter... I wish I had written more about the Third because after his death it would be much harder for me to make her remember him and reflect on his philosophy... Thank you for your reviews, and for reminding me that she is still a small child... I think you're right. She doesn't seem childlike enough sometimes...

Thanks for reading!

* * *

 **Leaves in the wind**

Why is she sitting on the porch now? What is she waiting for? A futile display of her wilful sentimentality. It is lost to her forever, she knows. The colors of the sky tonight. Lost in the black of night. Lost in the black of her mind. She cannot see a thing.

Patience, Hinata, patience. Why do the days seem endless? A long day at home idling away the hours. Lost in thought. Boredom. Irritation. Moodiness. Black. She cannot see a thing. Nothing. Emptiness. Darkness. Helpless. Useless. Worthless. Nameless... Nameless is she without her eyes. Faceless. Lifeless. Almost heartless. Almost.

Barely perceptible. A dull ache...  
Drop the melodrama.  
This pain is living proof of my -  
Weakness and emotional instability. Open your eyes to reality...  
I can't see a damn thing.

She remembers crying herself to sleep the day after she collapsed during her training. It's not the end of the world, she knows... She has been a good girl, and she has listened to her doctor... but she is bored, and what else can she do at home when she cannot even read? Her books, her solitude, her refuge.

Loneliness. Never before has the fear of solitude haunted her dreams. Does she understand loneliness at all? Not, perhaps, in any sense that Naruto understands it. No, she thinks to herself, she is not the same as the boy. She is not desperate. Not lonely. Not afraid. Not sad. Not angry...

Why should she be angry? Angry? with her clan? ... with Neji-niisan? for pointing out her flaws? for not going easy on her? She was not angry when he called her a failure that day. Nor was she hurt when he revealed to Naruto the mark on his forehead on the day of the finals. The mark. Neji-niisan...

She wished Naruto would stop asking questions then. Because she knew his pride and what it meant to him. To have the mark exposed to the public eye. Curious eyes. Careless eyes. Indifferent eyes. What do they know about him? All they saw was a weird mark on his forehead, and the raw emotion of a teenage boy who agonized over a mark on his forehead.

A mark. A sign. A difference. That which is not carved on her forehead stays on her mind. Every time she looks at herself in the mirror... Why, Hinata, do you still hesitate to wear your forehead protector the way it's supposed to be worn? and tell Kiba-kun no, you don't really think it's fashionable to wear it around your neck. You do this simply because there's nothing to hide on your forehead. Nothing. Nothing at all. You do this to remind yourself of the difference - between the marked and unmarked, between duty and instinct, between dependence and independence, between sacrifice and love, between talent and mediocrity... between Neji-niisan and her.

The irreconcilable difference. The rift. The distance. Between brilliant Neji-niisan and plain Hinata. Between ability and nobility. Between power and title. Between exception and tradition. Between the bloom of his youth and the pain of her childhood.

Changing times... changing hearts. And he, a beautiful boy of twelve, one of the many pairs of white eyes that hold her in utter contempt, is a breath of fresh air in an ancient house. Her father's pride and joy. Her father's.

Is she jealous? Why does it hurt so much when she believes she isn't? His contempt. His insults. His sarcasm. And though she did smile and congratulate her friend on his victory, if truth be told, she was really more sad than happy about her cousin's defeat. It must have been a shock for her father. That the prodigy is defeated by a loser like her... How wrong they were about Naruto-kun. And what would the elders say? The mere thought of their incredulous faces amused her no end.

She could hardly believe it herself. That Neji-niisan is not invincible. How childish she was. She could hardly tell why it hurt her to see it. He lost, and he laid there, too tired to get up. Then she realized she had wanted him to win. Neji-niisan... She had wanted to believe in his perfection.

Perfection... What is it? Where is it? Golden bird, golden bird... Were you once a caged bird? Was it a golden cage? Was it a wooden cage? We were foolish enough to believe we could keep you. The most intricate seal. The most unbearable pain. Unbearable. We were in agony... and we couldn't even cage your shadow. Are you real, ruthless bird, or a figment of my imagination? For you I have cried... pools of tears. Where are you now? And where are they... the lost pieces of my perfect self? Years of chasing after his shadow. Vain efforts to catch up... Niisan. She wants to cry... Why? Why wouldn't he wait for her? Niisan. Niisan... niisan! She isn't a genius. She isn't a failure. She is Hinata. Only Hinata. And Hinata... she has lost herself... her self, and her place... in this quiet and sedate house.

A house of eyes. Eyes of the living, and eyes of the past. Old house... What do you remember about them? The infants asleep in your cradle, and ghosts lounging around your halls. Coutless pairs of eyes... that twinkle like stars above your wooden floor. Childish. She feels infinitely childish, and ignorant, sitting under your roof, breathing in your silence... walking in your courtyards, leaning against your trees... flipping through the leaves of your books, reading the story of herself... a story which has begun decades, centuries - long before her birth, and would go on - she has no idea how long - after her death. Her story... a small story within a great story - unknown, untold, unheard - Will you remember her? Her flaws, her dreams, her regrets... The sorrows of a little girl... a little capricious, perhaps, and a little overblown... Just a little...

Just a little. Just a little sad tonight... waiting for the fireworks alone. Waiting for a moment, a moment of beauty. A brief moment, a simple moment, an unblemished moment, a moment when black eyes, white eyes, blue eyes... when all see that the sky is a very, very big palette, and the fieriest passions of men are only bright enough to light up a corner of it... and if most people have lost interest in stargazing, one can hardly be blamed for turning a blind eye to it - such an artificial display - of peace and prosperity... an artful play of light and color... Will it ever inspire in them an artless desire for a deeper understanding? Gullible girl... she is fool enough to be enchanted by this semblance of magic... a moment when ugliness is nowhere to be seen... a moment when she, plain Hinata, is as beautiful as any girl in Konoha, as beautiful as Sakura now with her short pink hair, and as handsome as Ino with her ever sunny smile and shiny hair.

A moment like this... a moment she wishes to share with a boy. The boy who sees the sky, not as a mirror - for the sky is never sunny because we love the sun, nor is it rainy because the rain makes us sad... The boy whose mind, she imagines, is a vast stretch of blue - or a vast stretch of green... A forest. Picturesque... The boy whose shirts always smell of summer, grass, and the sun... The boy she loves... if love is a child like her. A whimsical child. Moody. Restless. Feverish...

Is she in love? Is she sick? What is love if it makes her sick? Very, very sick. Sick of the dark, sick of the heat, sick of this summer, sick of the night... Is she really sick, or is she really in love, Shikamaru-kun? If she feels very, very sick tonight, does it mean that she is very, very much in love?

Very, very much in love... with the boy himself, or with her idea of romance... Can you feel it, Sakura? The thickness of the air... On a night like this. What's on your mind? An evening with the boy you love the most... Are you happy? Happy... aren't we?

Happy, happy sky... is it time to forget about the past? Thank you for the beautiful night. Konoha is grateful to you for smiling on our new hokage. She is beautiful, and she is strong, they say... And Konoha will recover from this. This grief. This anxiety. This nervousness. This fever... Missions, missions, missions. What are they all thinking about? This summer. This festival. Tonight...

Is this only a brief respite? A break? A truce? Tired already? Dear Konoha... Suna has betrayed us. The memory of that eventful day always fills her heart with a melancholic listlessness. They have betrayed us.

On the day of his funeral, she told herself she didn't really understand it... the will of fire that he tried so hard, so hard, to instill into their minds... She couldn't understand it. The rain annoyed her. Heavy, heavy rain. Her shoes were wet. Her hands were cold. Her heart was a dripping leaf, weeping in the savage summer rain.

Savagery... Savagery of a quiet summer night. A moonlit night. And on that night, the moon shone brightly on his corpse. A beautiful night it was... Neither the dead man nor the moon did speak. There were no words, and there were no lies. The night was quiet, and so was death. And the dead were silent, she thought... and she remembered the funeral, the black, the rain - and the embers... of his dying flame... and the silence, and she - she too, fell silent.

A harrowing silence. On a night like this. Now she is truly afraid... afraid of the silence, the dark, and the imaginary voices in the dark. Where is the light? Where are the lanterns? Where is the boy who chases the clouds? Wait. Wait for the fireworks. The whole world is waiting for it. But he would never stand in her shadow tonight, in the midst of the crowd... while she sits still on the porch, waiting for a firework display that her eyes would never see, and her yukata weeps alone in her miserable wardrobe... She misses him now. She misses the blue of the sky and the green of the grass and the light of the sun - and she misses him and she misses him and she misses him.

Long... long and lonely nights. Has she waited forever for this? Peace, fireworks, Tsunade-sama... The night is calm, and some of us have fallen asleep. A deep sleep... Some are sleepwalking in the dark... and some are sleepless tonight. She has no idea who they might be.


	7. Hide and seek

**Hide and seek**

All is quiet under the roof of her house. She is like a little bird. If she is unhappy that she is still unable to fly, she says nothing about it. Every day she goes to sit on the porch, looking through invisible walls, with bandaged eyes, at the world beyond her little nest. She is waiting for something.

When will her father return? She certainly doesn't seem to know better than he does. She didn't even ask him where he had gone, when he had left, when he would be back, or why he had simply entrusted her training to a young boy, barely old enough for her to call "niisan." She just accepted it with a nod. She was like this when she was small. Shy, gentle, and meek.

She is still like this. She may not dare to smile at him anymore, but that doesn't mean she has grown out of her starry-eyed innocence. She has simply learnt to hide it. She has no choice but to hide it, because life is easier when you do not wear your heart on your sleeve. She's getting better at it, he can see that.

He seldom sees her blush now, and her stutter... he doesn't really talk to her these days, so he's not sure, but she seems quite determined to speak as little as possible at home. She's extremely quiet. Gai and Lee might mistake it for shyness, but he knew her as a little child, and can tell the difference between shyness and remoteness.

She is sitting on the porch now, but she is far away. Far away from unimpressed white eyes sparkling under the same roof. Far away from the merriment of a festive summer night. Far away from her friends. Far away from her father and her sister. Far away from the sky. Far away from the stars.

He is here now. Years away from the susceptible innocence of his childhood... Where was Hinata-sama then? He had resisted the urge to activate his byakugan and look for her, because she had said that she would not play hide and seek with him again if he did not abide by the rules. He wanted to play with her. He knew he would find her. He would always find her when she wished to be found. And now he has found her, hidden in the gloomy silence of a dark summer night... Does she still wish to be found?

If she is aware of his presence, she says nothing about it. He should leave her alone. What is said is said, and what is done cannot be undone. He would be more careful with her next time, if Hiashi-sama ever asked him to assist in her training again, but there's nothing he can do now. She must wait for her eyes to heal, and he should really stop thinking about it now. Nostalgia is not a beautiful emotion, and feeling it on the night of the festival just makes it more distasteful than it already is. If he knows what he has lost, if he even feels a hazy sense of loss tonight...

She does not need to know that. She will open her eyes and see the world again, very soon, and when she does... maybe they will be able to see each other in a new light. Maybe she won't be afraid of him anymore , but now, he is afraid of her. What is the truth about Hyuga Hinata? That is not written in the letter...

The letter. Formidable words... They gave him a greater shock than all the brute force of a stubborn boy did. His last words... They gave him a new reality, a new tragedy. Could he... if he could only be free in death, could he... could they ever be free in life?

He is here now, but the answer is not here. He can't see it. She can't see it. She can't see anything at all, but now he knows... if she is blind now, she is hardly blinder than he has been for years. He wishes her a quick recovery.

* * *

Author's Note

Thank you for reading this. It's short, and I didn't plan on writing it. I was working on the next chapter, which I still haven't finished, but I suddenly wanted to write something about the last chapter from Neji's point of view, so I wrote it. I hope you like it. The next chapter will be longer, and I find it harder to write, so I don't know if I'll be able to finish it soon, but I haven't forgotten about this fic. Thank you very much for following, favoriting, and commenting on this story.


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